


Fire and Ice

by Griddlebone



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Blizzards & Snowstorms, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, One Shot, Sex In A Cave, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:58:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griddlebone/pseuds/Griddlebone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a snowstorm traps them in a cave for the night, Miroku has an idea to help pass the time. Sango makes him work for it, or tries to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Set during their first year of marriage, after Kohaku and Kirara departed.

Sango sighed, breath misting in the frigid air, and leaned back against the icy wall. The damp chill had already begun to seep through her armor, threatening to make this a very unpleasant night indeed.

When Miroku failed to acknowledge her frustration, she cracked tired eyes open to watch him. He stood near the cave's entrance, looking out into the storm that raged outside, dimly silhouetted by the last of the day's light.

Sango let her eyes drift shut again and sank down to sit with the cave wall still at her back. Outside, the wind howled and lashed snow in every direction.

The day's extermination had taken so long that the storm had been all but upon them before the youkai was slain. It had come too close to eluding them altogether, and then the weather had threatened to give them even more trouble than the youkai had. They'd been lucky to find shelter at all. The whole thing had turned Sango's mood sour, a blow from which it had yet to recover.

Eventually, Miroku made his way around to where she was sitting. "Well," he observed amiably, "it appears that we're stuck for the night."

Sango didn't bother to open her eyes or glance over. "Don't get any ideas," she said.

"No?"

She didn't have to open her eyes to know his mouth had quirked in a cocky half-smile. It was a great deal more difficult to maintain a neutral expression in the face of his obvious enthusiasm. "We're stuck in this cave for the night," she explained, "while there's a blizzard out there. We'll be lucky if we don't freeze to death."

He took a seat beside her and found her hand with his. That hand, which was usually so warm, was cold. Just like hers. The threat of freezing to death in the cave wasn't an idle one, it was a real possibility. They had blankets in their packs, but those would do little to stave off this kind of bone-chilling cold.

Miroku squeezed her hand reassuringly. Sango realized he'd inched over until their arms were touching. "We'll be okay," he told her.

"This cave is too poorly ventilated for a fire," she said. "It's barely big enough for the two of us to get out of the snow. And with that wind –" which blasted straight into the cave for one powerful gust, as if to accentuate her words "– our blankets won't do much good."

Miroku moved, shifting to face her; she let him, releasing his hand, spreading her legs so he could kneel between them. He leaned close, very close. She could feel his breath on her cheek when he said, "I think we'll find another way to keep warm."

Damn him for using that tone on her, for knowing just how well proximity worked in getting what he wanted out of her. Well, two could play this game.

"And what might that be, Houshi-sama?" she asked, eyes still closed as if she weren't the least bit concerned with what he thought. She'd used the title more to goad him than for any other reason, and it worked exactly as planned.

His lips pressed against her neck in the briefest of caresses, at the sensitive spot that made her shiver. "I think you know," he whispered against her ear.

"Is that so?" she asked. She could hardly be married to a man like him and miss the implication – or the heat that was growing between her legs. Even so, she angled her head away to give him better access. He did not disappoint.

She felt him smile against her neck as he paused to breathe deep, inhaling her scent like it was the most wonderful and intoxicating thing he had ever smelled. He kissed his way across her neck before pulling away.

"It would seem to me that you're feeling less cold already," he observed.

Sango managed to keep her eyes from popping open in annoyance, but she couldn't stop her cheeks from heating. She wondered if it was still light enough in the cave for him to see that she was blushing furiously, or if he would know even without the light.

"I don't know," she said, hating the way her voice wavered. "My hands feel like ice."

No sooner had she said the word than her hands were in his. He gently pressed her hands together between his own, letting some of his own body heat warm her. Sango sighed happily.

"And now?" Miroku asked, all innocence.

She considered it for a long moment. Miroku released her, slipping his hands under hers so he could lift them to press a kiss to each knuckle. She wished that her armor didn't cover the backs of her hands quite so much, getting in the way…

_Damn_ him.

"Sango?"

"I'm fine!" she insisted, cheeks burning even hotter. How could she tell him that, in a situation like this, she was teasing him, trying to see how long it would take before they both couldn't stand it any longer? It was far better to be thus distracted, it seemed to her, than sitting in the cold and waiting for the storm to wane. She had hoped he would realize what she was doing, but he sounded so concerned that she couldn't be sure.

"My hands are fine now," she told him finally, when she had calmed enough to think properly. "Thank you."

She felt him shift, opening her eyes to find that it was now too dark to really see what he was doing. He pressed his lips to her forehead, down the bridge of her nose, across each cheek, even once on her chin. Everywhere except her lips, until she wanted to grab him and kiss him herself. But when she tried to reach for him, his hands gripped hers firmly and would not yield.

Two could play this game, indeed.

He rested his forehead against hers, so close. "Are you still cold, Sango?"

"Yes," she breathed, tilting her head up to kiss him, but he was quicker than she anticipated, pulling away before she could make contact.

"A shame," he commented, from just far enough away that she couldn't reach him. His thumbs traced distracting circles on the backs of her hands, sliding ever so gently over skin and armor. Sounding slightly mournful, Miroku went on, "I'll have to try harder, then."

"Yes," she said again, wishing that her hands at least were free of their armor.

"And where should I start, Sango?" he asked. She tried in vain to come up with an answer. He really made this look easier than it was.

She didn't realize that he'd let go of her hands until he had undone the fasteners along the front of her armor and tugged the material away from her neck and chest. With the shoulder-guards still in place, the armor wouldn't come all the way off. It didn't need to. Opening it along the front gave him more than enough access for his purposes.

One of the first things that Miroku had done, when they first began living together, was to learn exactly how her armor worked. He'd had a rough idea, but he had wanted to know _everything_. She had humored him, and now she was glad that she had. It wasn't the first time. And as his hands slid around her, deftly undoing the binding that wrapped her breasts, she knew it wouldn't be the last time, either.

As the linen bindings loosened and dropped down around her waist, he brought his hands forward to cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over the hardened nubs of her nipples. The contrast between the cold air and the heat of his hands seemed to make her even more sensitive than usual .She leaned into the caress, wanting more.

Miroku rewarded her by massaging her breasts, squeezing gently. He lowered his head, kissing along her collarbone and then down and down, using lips and tongue to tease her nipples until she wanted more so badly it was all she could do not to squirm. But as much as she wanted to, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not yet. Instead she reached for his clothing, but he caught her hands and pulled them away before she could make much progress on disrobing him.

"Careful, monk," she cautioned. "Push me too far and you never know what I'll do."

"Is that so?" he mused, sounding so intrigued by the idea that she couldn't help but giggle. She'd forgotten all about the frustrations of the day and their unfortunate situation. In all likelihood, that was exactly what he'd intended.

"Oh yes," she went on, worming her hands free of his grip and starting again on the ties that secured his clothing. She worked quickly by feel alone. It was a good thing she'd had so much practice at this for the past few months.

"I might even be persuaded to tie you up again," she continued, trying to prolong his stupefaction long enough to – _there_. She tugged aside the thick fabric, sliding her hands across the bare skin of his chest. At last. He was so warm that her hands felt chilled all over again.

She'd teased him this morning for forgoing even a fundoushi, but she was glad of that now. It made this much easier. She skimmed her hands down his sides, almost tickling, and then forward across his stomach until he caught them again. "Now Sango," he scolded, voice husky, "that's not fair."

She pouted slightly and only just managed to keep from telling him that she'd only been trying to see if he was hard yet.

But he couldn't keep her hands trapped and undress her at the same time. She grinned, feeling wicked as he let go of her hands to work at getting her out of the rest of her armor. A part of her enjoyed that he had to work so hard to undress her when it was so easy by comparison to remove his clothing. Another part of her wanted to help him so she could feel those hands of his all over the rest of her body.

It wasn't until she had stood up to remove the last few pieces herself out of sheer impatience that she realized he'd been teasing her, drawing it out, fumbling on purpose, making it take far longer than it had to.

By that point she didn't care. She wanted him. Now.

He chuckled at her eagerness, but did not fend her off when she reached for him and tugged the front of his koromo all the way open. His hands skimmed up her sides, from hips to shoulders, leaving fire in their wake. Sango shivered, momentarily forgetting the cold.

Until Miroku shifted toward her, urging her backward.

"No," she said, pushing back forcefully against his shoulders. "It's cold enough in here without having my back against the ground."

He chuckled all over again at that, but let her push him onto his back. His robes would provide at least some insulation from the cold ground. And, she thought as she trailed her fingers up his thighs to grip his cock, some much needed padding for her knees.

She had half a mind to mount him right away, to feel the hard, thick heat of him inside her at last, but instead she paused. Her fingers glided up his length, applying the most gentle of pressures. Testing, teasing.

He was gratifyingly hard already and more than ready for her, fluid dripping from his tip. She licked the fluid away, feeling him twitch against her mouth in excitement, then moved over him to straddle his hips, using one hand to guide him inside her. She was so slick with her own excitement that he slid easily into her all the way to the hilt.

She let her head drop back, sucking in several deep breaths and just enjoying the glorious feeling of him inside her. It was beautiful, the way he fit so perfectly, filling every bit of her. She'd intended to take her time with this, drawing it out and enjoying every moment of their union, but already she could feel the cold seeping into her.

She shivered and curled forward against him, closer to the warmth of his body. She couldn't afford to take too much longer.

He flung an arm out to the side, fumbling in the darkness for… something. Sango's brow furrowed in confusion as he drew something out from her pack and draped it over her shoulders. Her kosode. The fabric was freezing from being in the pack all this time without her body to warm it, and made her skin prickle.

It was only when Miroku inhaled sharply that she realized she'd also gripped down on him – hard. "Are you okay?" she asked, trying to relax.

"Perhaps we should try that again to make sure," he suggested.

She gripped his shoulders, pushing him the rest of the way down, feeling him chuckle against her lips as she kissed him hard. The kiss was even more comforting than the intimate contact, and with the kosode draped over her to trap their shared body heat, she no longer had to worry about freezing before she was finished. She could take her time, like she'd wanted. So that was exactly what she did, meeting his tongue with her own, pulling away to tug at his lower lip.

When they were in this position, she knew from experience, Miroku liked her to move her hips. What she liked about it was that, to a certain degree, she was in control.

The entire time that she was kissing him, tracing gentle designs over his chest, she kept her hips perfectly, frustratingly still. And while she was thus occupied, the monk tried everything in his considerable power to convince her that she ought to reconsider tormenting him so.

His hands, which started out as warm, solid weights on her hips, grazed upward across her back before slipping round to her front. The way he cupped her breasts now was gentle, almost reverent. It was all she could do not to squirm as his fingers found her oversensitive nipples. With the fingers of his right hand, he squeezed her nipple. She gasped as exquisite pleasure shocked through her – between his mouth, his hands, and his manhood, surely this was bliss.

But it was his other hand, the left hand, that slipped down between them almost without her realizing what he was doing. And with one finger of that hand, he found her clitoris and, oh-so-gently, stroked. She gasped again, hips bucking as his flesh made contact with her most sensitive spot.

Once he had coaxed her into making that first move, she couldn't seem to stop. She rolled her hips, rocking back and forth, each motion bringing glorious sensation. As she found her rhythm he began to rock his hips in time with her movement, shifting the position of his fingers between them ever so slightly with each stroke until he found the spot that felt so intensely, impossibly good that it broke her rhythm.

She shuddered, wishing she could see Miroku's face so she could know if he felt the same pleasure that she did. But in the darkness all she could do was listen to the heavy sound of his breathing for proof.

With the tip of one finger, he circled her clitoris before stroking insistently in exactly the place that had so overwhelmed her only a few moments ago. Her hips moved forcefully, taking him as deep as she possibly could.

"Ah, Sango," he gasped.

She could not seem to recover her former rhythm. It was all too much. She curled forward, her face against his chest, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she helplessly rocked her hips against him. All thoughts of drawing this out and making it last were gone.

She was close – damn it all, _so close_.

Her eyes squeezed shut. Her body tensed.

It felt so good.

Oh, gods, she was going to –

"You can do it," Miroku whispered hoarsely before she could become too flustered. "Come for me, Sango."

One more firm stroke was all it took; she couldn't stop it. Back arching, head thrown back, ecstasy blazing through her. She cried out wordlessly in the midst of it, gasping Miroku's name as she came slowly down from the high of climax.

He murmured soothing words, letting her sag bonelessly against him while she caught her breath.

"How do you _do_ that?" she asked, face against his shoulder.

He let out a breath by way of answer. Even without words she could tell he was grinning like a fool. She'd never asked, but he seemed to take a sort of personal pride in bringing her to orgasm. Especially when he made her come before he did. Not that she was complaining.

In fact, at this moment she was quite aware that _he_ had not come yet. She could feel him inside her, still hard, still hot… and wriggled her hips just to see how he would react.

The sound of his breathing was almost painful, like he had almost choked. The first few times they made love, she had found that response alarming. Now she knew what it meant. So she repeated her movement.

"Sango," he managed to say, almost stumbling over the syllables.

"Yes, houshi?"

She felt him bring his knees up so his thighs were against her buttocks as she lay atop him. "Have I mentioned today what a lucky man I am?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "Not today, no."

"I thought so," he murmured thoughtfully. His hands meandered down her back, digging in a little when she rocked her hips against him, until they at last reached her bottom. She giggled, surprised it had taken him that long to get around to appreciating one of his most favorite parts of her anatomy. His hands gripped her hard, pulling her firmly against him.

She knew what was coming next, and looped her arms around his neck as he levered himself up and over, never pulling out of her as he reversed their positions. He didn't even let go of her bottom until he needed to brace himself to keep from crushing her. By some miracle the fabric of her kosode didn't bunch up beneath her, but formed a warm barrier between her body and the cave floor. Warmed by pleasure, she barely noticed.

As Miroku settled into a rhythm, Sango hooked her legs over his hips to pull him deeper inside her. He lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers in the lightest of touches. "I'm the luckiest man in the world," he told her.

She nipped at his lower lip and kissed him deeply, encouraging him to keep going. He must have been close to his own climax when she came, because it didn't take him long after that to finish. He broke off the kiss suddenly to bury his face against her neck, thrusting into her deep and hard several times until he was gasping for breath.

When the last of the aftershocks had subsided and he pulled out of her, he murmured again, "I am the luckiest man in the world."

"Miroku…"

"When you say my name like that, it makes me wish that we could repeat such a glorious experience immediately," he sighed.

"Miroku!" she scolded, but she couldn't quite keep the laughter out of her voice. She'd known Miroku was an incorrigible man when she married him, but sometimes he still managed to surprise her just a little. And besides, they knew from experience that it wouldn't take him _that_ long to be ready again, and for now they both needed a moment or two to breathe anyway.

He rolled to one side, pulling her with him until they were comfortably tangled up together. They lay like that for a long time, finally relaxed after the day's frustrations and finally warm in spite of the weather.

After a time, Miroku dared the cold for long enough to retrieve their packs and the blankets within. Together they made a nest from their clothes and blankets and dozed there, skin to skin and thoroughly warmed by their earlier exertions, until the sky began to grow lighter and even the storm's wrath faded away as dawn approached.

When Sango realized that it had grown light enough that she could see the cave around her and the man dozing beside her, she thought to go see what havoc the storm had wreaked on the countryside – and if she and Miroku could head home today or if they would be trapped in the cave for another night. But when she tried to free her kosode from their bed, she found Miroku smirking up at her.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, all innocence.

She frowned. "Yes, I –"

He caught her by the wrist and tugged her, unresisting, in for a kiss. A slow, deep, intoxicating kiss that reignited the flame she had felt last night. She pulled away, adding warningly, "Houshi…"

He sighed, exaggerating his disappointment. "Well," he decided aloud, "you can't fault me for trying. But in all seriousness, Sango, when do you think I am going to get another opportunity as fine as this to keep you all to myself for a while?"

She paused, considering his words. While a part of her longed for the comfort – and warmth! – of home, she realized that going home meant dealing with Inuyasha and the villagers and all of the other obligations that came from being a demon slayer whose services were much in demand lately _and_ being married to the village's only monk. Sometimes, she decided, her husband actually did manage to be the more sensible of them.

So she leaned in and kissed him lightly. "You make a good point," she told him, laughing as he pulled her on top of him and squeezed her tight.

For just a while longer, the rest of the world could wait.


End file.
